The Very Silly And Improbable Adventures of the Hogwarts Host Club
by Story Please
Summary: This is pure crack-fic dreamed up by my silly brain at an inappropriate time in the middle of the night when I should have been doing something sensible, such as sleeping. Completely non-canon. OOC-ness as hilarity ensues. Total irreverent universe filled with Foppish!Lucius, gender-bending Hermione and probably cake. Actually, scratch that, lots of cake. The really decadent sort.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is is a completely ridiculous, crack-ficcy, utterly absurd story. I shall be hacking and slashing at continuity, characters, and the very fabric of space-time in some places in order to suit my desires. Credit for the scenario comes from Ouran Host Club.

SO, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, ON WITH THE STORY!

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Enter, Hermione, via Time Turner Trope-splosion**

Hermione was falling.

Well. That wasn't quite right. It was more of a wobbly, spinning, aimless dive in all directions that felt like falling but was actually more of a floaty sort of plummet. Up was down then left and right. It was all rather tricky, actually, and none of it was made any better by the spinning, glowing, white-hot dust that surrounded her body. Hermione's stomach didn't like it one bit. Neither, in fact, did the rest of her.

There had been a Time Turner. How she'd found it didn't really matter. How she'd broken it was a similarly useless thing to ponder, since it _had_ broken and thrown her into an endless chasm of stars and darkness and there was nothing that she could do about it.

Then, as quickly as it had gobbled her up, the void spat her out onto a very hard and unforgiving grassy knoll. Sure, it looked plush and green from afar, but Hermione slammed into it at a dangerous speed, so it was rather like jumping out of a speeding car onto a mattress made of tissue paper and expecting to come out of the experience unscathed. Luckily, she still had her wand in one hand, and was able to cast a quick cushioning charm on the ground before she face-planted into it. Of course, when she finally did rise from her landing, her face and body was still caked with dirt and dark with burrs, but Hermione was happy to be both not-dead and uninjured, so she counted it as a win.

Brushing off her face and robes the best she could, Hermione stood and took in the magnificence that stood before her.

Hogwarts castle had always been an old, drafty place, but it had also had a breathtaking charm to it as well. Now, however, instead of a mere castle, there were a number of various, highly decorative buildings with a tall clock tower that could rival Big Ben standing at the middle of it all. Hogwarts castle was still there, but it was longer and its windows gleamed like cut diamonds. The entire place looked as though it had been pulled from a fairytale. An _extremely expensive_ fairytale.

Hermione cast a tempus charm to see what time it was, and determined that it was about half past noon. Had it really only been twenty minutes? Hermione had felt as though she'd been stuck in that awful void for days. Her stomach growled as if to collaborate that particular fact.

There was nothing for it. Hermione would have to go to the castle sometime or other to find help. The burns from the heated sand bit at her skin and clothing like tiny fiery suns, and Hermione did her best to brush them off as she started towards the castle in the far distance.

* * *

As Hermione reached the front steps to the school, she did her best to avoid the odd student here and there as they strode through the grounds. Most of them were wearing something akin to a school uniform instead of the traditional robes that Hermione wore. In fact, there was something...incredibly expensive about their tailor-made clothing. The boys and the girls alike appeared to have had their clothing perfectly fitted to their bodies, and Hermione couldn't help but stare. Also, there appeared to be a fairly wide variety of ages of students, from the very young to what Hermione supposed must be college-aged students. She frowned. Perhaps, instead of throwing her back in time, she'd been thrown _forward_ instead? It would certainly explain the expanded grounds and beautified buildings.

Hermione entered the castle without any further distractions and then asked one of the portraits near the front hall how to get to the headmaster's office.

"You look like you ought to head to the infirmary first, lass," the painted witch princess replied, her pointed tartan hat askew on her head. "You wait here. I'll go get Madam Pomfrey."

Hermione's heart leapt as she heard the familiar name. Perhaps, in the future, a descendant of the original Madam Pomfrey worked here! Hermione couldn't think of any other reason why the name would be the same other than some strange coincidence.

When Madam Pomfrey did arrive, however, Hermione was struck by how utterly young she was. Beyond that, however, the mediwitch was just as much of a worrier and fussed over Hermione as though she was a mother hen.

"Oh, you poor thing!" she clucked. "Let's get you to the infirmary immediately! Don't worry, I'll alert the headmaster."

Hermione followed the mediwitch up the stairs to the infirmary and was very pleasantly surprised at the rather effective burn salve that soon covered her poor, aching body. After a few potions and a short nap in one of the hospital beds, the mediwitch allowed Hermione to shower properly and then offered her a formless hospital gown while the house-elves were washing her clothing.

"I say, those robes sure are an old style," the mediwitch commented as she set down a tray of soup with crackers onto Hermione's bedside table. "Are you new here, dear?"

Hermione stuffed a cracker into her mouth to as to avoid actually answering verbally and merely nodded. She still needed to see the headmaster to confirm her suspicions, but she was getting a very odd feeling that she was further off the mark than she'd originally imagined.

* * *

When Hermione awoke, it was to a pair of familiar blue eyes staring down at her. Albus Dumbledore, alive and well and with quite a lot less gray in his beard stood with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Ah," he said, as she blinked and stretched. "Did you have a good rest, then?"

Hermione nodded, her belly churning with butterflies. What was going on? She wasn't even sure if Dumbledore would know how to solve this particular problem.

"I...had an accident," Hermione said, looking down at her hands.

"That much is obvious," Dumbledore replied with a sage nod. "However did you find yourself covered with so many pieces of time dust? Normally, it has to be carefully distilled using painstaking charms and then safely concealed inside of a-"

"-Time Turner?" Hermione finished, "Yeah...about that. I...er...may have broken one and fallen into a hole in time-space."

Dumbledore stared at her for a long moment. Then, he chuckled. "Oh, well, if that is _all_."

"Sir, I know you from...wherever I was before," Hermione continued. "The problem is that I don't recognize the grounds. At all. And, well, from the time I was in, I can tell you that you're dead."

"I am now feeling rather fortunate to be here instead of there, I must confess," Dumbledore replied after a long, pensive silence. "Well, from what you've told me, it seems like it's still a bit too early to tell exactly what has happened, but I suppose we ought to assume that it will be difficult to downright impossible for you to return safely to where you were before until we can truly ascertain what happened in the first place. I had Madam Pomfrey save as much of the time sand as we could fit in a glass phial, so we shall send it to the Ministry for analysis. In the meantime, however, we need to figure out what to do with you, Miss…?"

"Granger," Hermione said, "Hermione Granger, sir. And, for the record, I'm glad that you're alive as well."

Dumbledore smiled at her. "Here at Hogwarts Academy, we-"

"Excuse me?"

"Yes?" Dumbledore seemed unfazed.

"Did you say Hogwarts _Academy_?" Hermione said slowly.

"Why, yes," Dumbledore replied mildly. "Is that not the name of this fine institution in...your world?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Hm, curious and curiouser," Dumbledore said. "Well, no matter. The problem here is that we don't just let anyone into our school. It is both prestigious and expensive to attend Hogwarts Academy instead of the lesser Pigpus Prep, which is more for...average students. Tell me, Miss Granger, how are your academics?"

Hermione brightened at this question. "I'm at the top of my class, sir," she said breezily, hoping that she didn't sound as though she was bragging. "I'd be happy to take any manner of tests to prove it."

Dumbledore stroked his beard, which appeared slightly pink in colour and had a bit of a sparkle to it and nodded. "Hmm, yes, yes. Well, we do just so happen to have an academic scholarship program for the particularly gifted. If you can manage a 99.9% score on your entrance exams, you can attend with your tuition and board covered. The only problem is that your school supplies, such as your uniform and books, must still be paid for by you. I can give you a grace period to save up for these items and allow you to borrow the library copies of your books as a courtesy, but you will have to buy your own by the end of your first year here in order to stay on."

Hermione frowned. "But sir," she protested. "I'm seventeen years old. I'm a legal adult- shouldn't I be too old for the Academy?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Dear girl, our classes go up to age twenty-five. We have a full range of apprenticeship programs and secondary studies depending on the classes you decide to take and the field you're interested in going into as a career. Here at Hogwarts Academy, we don't just get you ready for the world, we ease you into it."

Hermione frowned. That line sounded suspiciously like an advertisement, but she let it go. After all, Dumbledore obviously knew what he was talking about.

"It's Thursday evening now, so I shall give you until Monday to study for your entrance exams," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "I'll have Professor McGonagall send up the recommended study material in the morning."

"I won't let you down, sir," Hermione said, her eyes blazing with the challenge ahead.

Dumbledore chuckled and gave her a kindly look over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "I don't doubt it one bit, Miss Granger. It was a pleasure meeting with you."

Madam Pomfrey turned the lights out soon after Dumbledore left, and Hermione tried to sleep. It was much harder with the sounds of other patients wafting through the thin sheets strung upon rings that served as walls around each bed, but eventually she managed.

* * *

Hermione had enjoyed meeting Professor McGonagall the next morning. The woman was just as she remembered, though there were no strands of gray or white hair at her temples. Hermione was rather surprised when McGonagall changed into an orange tabby on her way out of the infirmary after dropping off the books, but then again, she'd already noticed a number of differences so she tried not to let it show.

Reading through the testing material was an exercise in frustration, as most things were the same, but certain bits were different for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Many of the pronunciations for spells were slightly different than she'd learned originally. Luckily, most of the spells part of the exam would be via practical application, and Hermione found that her silent spellcasting was unchanged.

By Monday, she was ready, and she didn't even need to look at the impressed expression on Dumbledore's face to know that she'd aced the test in record time.

"Welcome to Hogwarts Academy, Miss Granger," he said brightly, shaking her hand. "I will have the Deputy Headmistress set you up with your lodging and your student identification card."

Hermione beamed. "Thank you, sir, I truly appreciate it!"

"No, Miss Granger," he replied, holding up a hand, "it is I who should be thanking you. You are truly remarkable- I haven't seen scores this high for years."

Hermione skipped to the front office with a song in her heart.

* * *

The Deputy Headmistress, it turned out, was Professor Sprout.

Hermione barely had time to straighten down her long bushy hair before the picture had been taken.

"Hermio...neh?" Professor Sprout asked, holding up the parchment with the spelling of her name. "Is that correct?"

"It's more like Her-Mai-Oh-Knee," Hermione corrected.

"Ah," Sprout replied. "Pretty name. Is it related to Hermes, the messenger god?"

"It's from Shakespeare, I think," Hermione replied with a shrug.

"Ah, yes, so it is." Sprout nodded. "Lovely man."

Luckily, by that time, Sprout had ushered her to the door of her new quarters. The room was small and plain, but Hermione liked it.

"Do you sort children into a House?" Hermione asked, hoping she wouldn't get a bewildered look.

"A long time ago, we used to," Sprout replied. "However, most students just choose the House they like best. Each year, you're given the option to stay with the same House or change it as you like. Now that the dorms are all consolidated, we don't really have separate common rooms anymore, but there are clubs rooms for each group to gather for various activities, and we still award and subtract points."

Hermione wasn't exactly sure what she thought of the change, but the thought of having a room to herself without anyone snoring nearby was heavenly.

"Is it ok if I choose Gryffindor?" Hermione asked.

Sprout laughed. "I'm probably not the best to ask that particular question. Due to my status as Head of Hufflepuff I'm a bit biased, but it's up to you."

"I've decided," Hermione said with a smile. "I'll go with Gryffindor."

"Very well, I'll mark it in the wards," Sprout replied. "Now, then, is there anything else you need before I head off for my evening rounds?"

After asking about the meal times and locations of various classes she was interested in taking, Sprout bid her farewell and left Hermione to lay back on the little bed in her dorm room. A sense of melancholy filled her as she began to wonder what her friends were doing back in her old world. Had they discovered her absence yet? Were they worried about her? Or, in a cruel yet fitting manner, had time and space altered itself to erase her from her old world in order to place her here?

"Well," Hermione said in a brave tone of voice as she stared up at the ceiling, "there's no point in worrying about any of that stuff. What's done is done, at least for the time being."

As she drifted off to sleep, she found herself wishing that she believed those words more than she actually did in her heart of hearts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Enter Host Club**

It took a whopping seventy-two hours for Hermione to regret enrolling at Hogwarts Academy.

On Monday, she got lost on her way to class and ended up in a first year Potions class instead of the Advanced Ancient Runes course she'd signed up for. The Potions class was strangely being held in a large, open room with plenty of natural light and Slughorn was a good deal younger than she remembered. He had long, salt-and-pepper hair held back in a ponytail and a substantially smaller belly. He was also, inexplicably, Korean.

Still, other than his outward appearance, he was the same old Slughorn with the same old nepotistic personality and same old Slug Club, to which Hermione found herself invited within the first class. Then, at lunchtime, a third year suffered a burst of accidental magic, and Hermione's hair had been partially doused in sticky toffee pudding. She severed her ruined locks with a hasty Slicing Hex before Madam Pomfrey finished up working with the hysterically crying third year, and left the Great Hall for a shower. Luckily, the pudding washed mostly out of her robes, but she had to wear them damp to her next class. The fact that her curly hair only came to the bottoms of her ears didn't bother her much- in fact, she began to wonder why she hadn't cut it short earlier. She'd also received a thick-framed pair of zero-prescription glasses from Dumbledore, whose note explained that wearing them might make her less recognizable if she found herself meeting someone she might know from her timeline. Obviously, this point was thoroughly moot now thanks to her butchered hair, but Hermione still put them on anyway.

It was hard to make friends, especially since she was starting out in her sixth year while everyone else seemed to have gone to school forever. At most, others seemed to either give her strange looks for wearing her plain, black robes to class, or ignored her completely. Also, Hermione found herself irritated at how casual everyone seemed to be about their studies. It was as though nobody studied at all! They just expected their rich parents to give them jobs after school, or worse, had few plans to do anything after graduation. The final straw had been when she'd gone to the library, looking for a quiet place to study, and found herself in the throes of a cocktail party. She was scandalized when she saw a fifth year (who should not have been drinking the flute of champagne that was precariously perched in his hand) accidentally spill half a glass on a particularly old tome.

"The library is a place for studying!" she'd hissed under her breath as she turned and stormed from the room. "Not _socializing_!"

She said _socializing_ as though it was a dirty word. And, to some extent, it was. Hermione did not want to belly up to the rich and influential and charm them into giving her a handout. Though she knew it was probably harder to get ahead on merit alone, she felt as though she ought to be able to do so without sacrificing her morals.

Stomping up the stairs, Hermione finally reached the fifth floor and caught her breath. It was only when she saw the tapestry of the dancing trolls (they were tap-dancing in this universe instead of dancing ballet, she noticed), that she remembered- the Room of Requirement! Nobody had known about it in her timeline until Dobby had told them in their fifth year.

Oddly enough, as soon as she passed the space on the wall, the door materialized almost immediately. She tried the door, sighing with relief as it swung open silently.

"Finally, I'll be able to get some studying done!" she said, relieved, squinting as the bright light of the room beyond filled her eyes.

When her eyes adjusted, they immediately widened with something between shock and horror as she saw the assorted group of boys standing before her. They were clustered around a green velvet chaise lounge, with a very familiar blond boy sitting on it as though he had just been crowned king.

"Welcome," a young Lucius Malfoy purred, "to the Hogwarts Academy Host Club."

* * *

Hermione stared, one eye twitching at the scene before her, and backed up slowly towards the door. Behind Lucius, stood a young version of Severus Snape holding a clipboard and wearing small, rectangular glasses. They suited his angular face and hooked nose quite well, actually, and his expression was one of cool disinterest. He wore his long, fine, and silky hair pulled back from his face.

"Ah," Lucius rumbled, practically dancing his way over to where Hermione stood, "it's our one and only transfer student, come to taste the pleasures of our fine club!"

"I hear he was accepted on a scholarship by Dumbledore himself!" said one of the red-haired twins, who was most definitely not Fred or George, but whom Hermione would have put money on being at least tangentially related to the Weasley or Prewett clans. Actually, now that she thought of it, she had noticed them in a few of her classes, which meant that she was probably in the same year as they were.

"Granger, wasn't it?" Hermione was pulled out of her thoughts by the sudden close proximity of Lucius' sparkling gray eyes. She'd only ever seen the older version of him sneering or scowling, so seeing him with such a friendly, welcoming disposition was somewhat unnerving. "I must say, I hadn't expected that this little bookworm would make his way up here so quickly. Are you finally settling in, Granger?"

Hermione found herself backing up and then turning slightly to her side as Lucius gracefully advanced upon her. He seemed unaware that his proximity made her nervous, and before she could stop him from doing it, he pressed a finger under her chin, tipping her face up to his in a decidedly seductive manner.

"Don't worry, young man, the Host Club is happy to serve you, regardless of your sexuality," he said softly.

"I-I'm not-" A full-body chill ran up Hermione's spine and she jerked backwards instinctively- the last time Lucius Malfoy had been close enough for her to feel the heat of his breath against her lips, he'd been threatening to kill her and her friends at the Ministry.

Something bumped against her back and she twisted around to see a giant, ornamental vase tipping in the opposite direction. It was the sort of thing that was not only large, but looked unspeakably expensive. Immediately, Hermione grabbed for it with her hand, and then tried to pull out her wand, but she was far too slow. The vase shattered into thousands of pieces, and a ghastly shrieking noise emanated from it before dissipating into the air.

Hermione slowly turned back to where Lucius was standing with a frozen smile on his face.

"That is going to cost you, Granger," Snape said from behind her, and she jumped, turning to face him. "My name is Snape. Severus Snape, and I am in charge of the financial solvency of our club. How, exactly, are you expecting to repay us? That was a priceless antique with an authentic and ancient Divining Charm interwoven into the porcelain. Our club was planning to auction it off later this year at the Yule Ball."

"H-how much?" Hermione stuttered, still frozen.

"Over one hundred thousand Galleons, according to the goblin that appraised it. But, from the looks of you, I doubt you've got that much money in your coffers." Snape's expression was mild, as though they were talking about the weather, but she could see the small pull of his lip that signalled that he was trying hard not to sneer.

"But I don't- I'm not…" Hermione trailed off, wondering how she was going to get out of such a dire situation.

"A-ha-ha-ha! I thought so! You're _broke_ , aren't you?" Lucius had recovered and was now leaning on Snape's shoulder, looking down at Hermione with a cocky look that was much more like the Lucius Malfoy Hermione knew and remembered. He was pinching his chin with his thumb and forefinger in a mock-thoughtful sort of way that made Hermione want to slap him. "So, then, if you're not going to pay us back with money, then perhaps you can pay us back...with your _body_."

Hermione flushed instantly and pulled out her wand. " _Don't_ _you_ _dare_ _touch_ _me_!" she shouted.

"Relax, relax," Lucius said, stepping away from Snape and circling around Hermione. "I didn't mean it in a perverted way. After all, we are civilized wizards, are we not? No, I think that from now on, you shall be the Host Club's dog- running errands for us and doing our bidding as needed until you pay back what you've destroyed."

"Can't I just...repair it?" Hermione swished her wand in a complicated pattern and reformed the vase once more.

The twins clapped together, and a short, blond boy who looked somewhat familiar ran forward and bent over to look at it, his eyes huge with curiosity.

"Wow!" he said, his voice high pitched and full of enthusiasm, "I've never seen such fine spellwork, Granger!"

He grinned up at Hermione, his face as innocent as a child's and his blue eyes sparkling. "Nice ta meecha! I'm Gilderoy, but everyone calls me Gilly! Heehee!"

Hermione couldn't speak. She felt as though she was about to choke on her tongue. He was so... _tiny_. She resisted the urge to pet him on the head.

A tall, strong-looking boy with dark black hair and stormy eyes appeared at Gilderoy's side and silently picked him up and carried him away under one arm.

"Awwwww! You're no fun, Regulus!" Gilderoy pouted, but let himself be carried back to the couch.

Hermione wasn't quite sure but she thought she heard Regulus mutter something like "could get hurt."

"It's worthless without the ancient Divining Charm," Snape scoffed, shaking his head and drawing her attention, "and those haven't been in use since the fourteenth century. Even then, you'd have to be chosen for innate talent in the divining arts and then apprentice for at least three years before you could cast them reliably."

Hermione stomped her foot in frustration. "Right. Hogwarts: A History had a section on that."

"Precisely," Severus replied, smiling for the first time. His smile seemed curious, as though he knew a secret.

Hermione's shoulders slumped with resignation. "Fine. What do you need me to do?"

"Well, starting out, you can go get some high quality snacks for the lovely ladies who will be stopping by shortly," Lucius replied, handing Hermione some money and a Portkey made out of an old, greasy shoelace. "This will take you to London and bring you back when you say _Portus_. Now shoo, boy!"

"Don't even think about taking any of that money for yourself," Snape said, sneering somewhat openly now.

"I wouldn't dream of it!" Hermione replied, jutting her chin out at him in a haughty manner.

It was only once she'd Portkeyed away to Diagon Alley that she realized what had been bothering her.

"Wait. Did he call me a boy?" she wondered aloud. "Whatever. I need to get the stuff and get back. They can call me a rampaging hippogriff for all I care, as long as I can just do my work and get this over with."

With that, Hermione counted through the money, frowned at how little it actually was, and then decided to exchange some of it for Muggle money at Gringotts. After all, she happened to know of a Muggle market that was only a few blocks from The Leaky Cauldron. If she'd learned one thing growing up the daughter of two humble, self-employed dentists, Hermione knew how to be frugal with her money.

"Damned rich people," she muttered under her breath as she stepped back out through the bank doors. "Well, at least it can't get any worse."


End file.
